Shattered Dreams
by GW Katrina
Summary: What happens after Zeke runs. Sequel to Fallen. This makes no sense unless you've read that.
1. Out of Dreams of Darkness

Title: Shattered Dreams  
Author: GW Katrina  
Beta: Rebecca. Any mistakes are my fault.  
Archive: Anywhere. Just tell me so I can go look.  
Warning: Slash  
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, here's the way I would do it  
Summary: What happens after Zeke runs  
Notes: Sequel to Fallen. This makes no sense unless you've read that.  
It's very cold as I type this, so I apologize for typos, which I'm  
sure will appear. *grins* I want to thank everyone who wrote with  
encouragement. As well as those who threatened to hunt me down if I  
didn't get the next part out soon. Thank you.  
  
Shattered Dreams  
  
Tentacles traced his face, and Zeke pressed himself harder against  
the wall. A mouth full of teeth clicked shut inches from his nose.  
  
With a strange slurping noise, Marybeth stood before him. She leaned  
forward, arms on either side of Zeke's head.  
  
"Hello, Zeke," she drawled, fake Southern accent still in  
place. "Did you miss me?"  
  
Zeke stared at her. He had seen the pen sticking out of her eye,   
back in Herrington.  
  
"You can't be here," he snarled, determined she wouldn't see his  
fear. If she could survive an eyeful of scat, he didn't know what  
would kill her. "Casey killed you."  
  
"Oh, did he?" Her voice was a soft purr. "Where's he at, then, hmm?  
Maybe I'm not the one who died, Zekey-boy. Maybe Casey was the one  
who died. Maybe your little mind," she flicked his forehead with a  
finger. "Snapped when you saw his body, mind shredded by my  
children."  
  
Zeke shivered. No. Casey wasn't dead. He wasn't human, but he had  
been very much alive. Zeke hoped he still was.  
  
Seeming to sense Zeke's stubbornness, Marybeth smiled. "You're  
right, Zekey. Casey wasn't dead. At least, his body wasn't. One of  
my babies got in him. Wrapped up, all cozy and warm inside that  
amazing brain." She leaned closer, hot breath washing over his face.  
Ignoring the man's shudders, the alien continued.  
  
"He was the only one to figure it out, you know. If it weren't for  
him, none of you would have discovered me. Not until it was too  
late."  
  
Feeling like he should run, Zeke found he couldn't move, not even  
when Marybeth pressed her naked form against him. "Think about it,   
Zeke. That night, before you abandoned him, wasn't it nice to be  
with him? To taste that skin that had been marked so often by  
others? To see those eyes roll up in pleasure? What was it like to  
feel those long, pale fingers touching you, finding ways to make you  
quiver?"  
  
Her tongue traced a wet line up his neck. "I bet it felt good, Zeke.  
If I wanted, I could pull how it felt for him into my mind. What my  
children feel, I can feel.  
  
You tasted good that first day, in the storage closet. When we  
kissed, I wanted to keep you for myself."  
  
Now Marybeth moved back, her eyes gleeful. "I don't share, Zekey.  
Ever."  
  
She turned and waved, and from the shadows stepped Casey, eyes  
blank. Moving as if he was sleep walking, the boy moved forward,   
kneeling with his back to Marybeth.  
  
A strange growl came from the blonde, and Zeke watched in horror as  
Casey jerked, back arching, arms stiff at his side. There was a  
barely audible 'pop', and thin, red tendrils slithered out from  
Casey's ear.  
  
As quickly as it had appeared, the alien fell out and laid there,   
glistening with liquids Zeke didn't want to think about.  
  
There was a weak groan, and Casey fell forward, catching himself  
hard with his arms. Dazed eyes rose and spotted Zeke.  
  
"Ze-ke?" Casey's voice cracked, and Zeke felt his chest tightened.  
Why did Casey have to look so lost?  
  
"I'm free," whispered Casey. His look took on a desperate  
appearance. "It was true, Zeke. It wasn'-"  
  
CRACK  
  
Marybeth's eyes were cold, and she twisted Casey's head the other  
direction, producing another loud crackling noise. Not like the  
first one. Not like the one what had snuffed the fire in Casey's  
eyes.  
  
"As I said, I don't share."  
  
Dropping Casey's body, she stepped over it, her smile back in  
place. "Don't worry, my Zeke. You'll be happy soon."  
  
There was a faint tug on his pants leg, and Zeke looked down. His  
eyes widened, and he fought, trying to get away from whatever held  
him bound.  
  
Crawling up his leg was the alien that had just been in Casey's head.  
  
Oh, God. Casey.  
  
Petting Zeke's pale face, Marybeth cooed. "You'll see it from his  
side. You'll feel what it was like, the touch of your skin, the joy  
of waking up smelling like you. You'll also get to feel the hurt,   
being abandoned by the only person you trusted.  
  
Sugar and salt, Zeke. Sweet and bitter. It's what life is about."  
  
The alien's tentacles brushed his face, curling around his ear.  
  
Zeke screamed.  
  
Feeling those things pushing inside his ear was the most disgusting  
thing he had ever felt. Most of his attention was focused on the  
invading creature, but one tiny corner was screaming for a different  
reason.  
  
"Sorry, Case."  
  
Then a strange feeling washed over his body. It was like the morning  
he had gone to sleep with Casey, who had been brushing a feather  
over his face.  
  
Suddenly, the parasite vanished. Marybeth vanished. Casey's body  
vanished. Everything was gone. Only a blur and a cold wind, and a  
voice talking to him, interrupted periodically by a loud 'fwoosh'  
sound.  
  
Unable to make any sense of it, Zeke fell back into the darkness. A  
place which was rapidly becoming familiar.  
  
***  
  
His head hurt.  
  
Again.  
  
With a soft moan, Zeke tried to sit up, only to find himself unable  
to move. Dry eyes jerked open, and he looked around frantically.  
  
He was in an unfamiliar room, firmly tucked into a bed. That  
explained the being unable to move. But where was he? The last thing  
he remembered was driving down the road. His whole body felt sore.  
What had happened?  
  
Looking around the room again, Zeke saw a dark jacket, heavy enough  
to keep out the chill that was starting to creep into the nights.  
Problem was, it was familiar, but wasn't his.  
  
It was Casey's.  
  
A noise outside the closed door was his only warning, and Zeke  
pretended he was asleep.  
  
Eyes shut; Zeke heard the door click open, and someone rustling  
around. There was a gentle touch against his forehead, and a small  
sigh.  
  
"Fever's broken," mumbled Casey. He continued to talk as he moved  
around, but it was too low for Zeke to make out any words. There was  
the sound of water, and a cool cloth was draped over his forehead.  
  
"I bet you still can't hear me, but I'm going to get some more  
food." Soft fingers stroked his hair, and Zeke shifted without  
meaning to. There was a noise of delight from Casey.  
  
"You can beat this, Zeke. I know you can. You're the most stubborn  
and difficult person I've ever known. Be difficult. Be stubborn.  
Beat this."  
  
A soft kiss brushed his temple. "I don't care if you do hate me.  
Just wake up."  
  
Another sigh, and the sound that was Casey left the room. Zeke laid  
still until he heard the sound of a door shutting.  
  
Fever? He vaguely remembered his vision blurring, then Marybeth. Then  
the cold air. Had he gotten sick?  
  
It must have hit fast, after he had left (abandoned, chimed in a  
small voice) Casey. He remembered driving until dusk, then looking  
for a place to stay. Nothing after that.  
  
Opening his eyes again, Zeke struggled until he was able to sit up.  
Damn, was Casey trying to keep him trapped?  
  
Casey. What was he doing here? Marybeth had a clear reason. She  
wanted to take over the world. What did Casey want? What did he  
really look like? It disgusted Zeke that Marybeth had used a pretty  
face to hid what she was. What if Casey was doing the same thing?  
  
Pushing back the sheets, which felt like they were lined with lead,   
Zeke rose on weak legs and headed for his duffle, which was lying  
in a nearby table. Hopefully, what he wanted was still there.  
  
***  
  
Casey pushed open the door with a sigh. While the supplies weren't  
as heavy as Zeke has been, it was still a long way to the car and  
back.  
  
Stopping in the kitchen, Casey stirred the soup that was cooking on  
the stove. He wondered how many more beatings he would have got if  
it have gotten out that he liked to cook, and was good at it. Just  
the behavior they saw at school was enough to get him labeled 'bitch  
boy' by some.  
  
Tasting the soup, Casey smiled weakly. If Zeke ever woke up, he  
would have very mushy noodles in his soup.  
  
God, he hoped Zeke woke up. The last reports that had made in on the  
airwaves had given the death rate at ninety-nine percent. Out of  
thousands infected, only about two dozen had gotten better.  
  
When he had found Zeke, unconscious in the front seat of a wrecked  
car, burning up with fever, Casey had gone on autopilot. He had  
gotten Zeke out and taken him to the nearest house. There had been  
one moment when he thought Zeke had woke up. He had heard his name,   
but the older boy had been caught in fever dreams.  
  
After that, everything had been a blur. Periods of haze were broken  
by the cold water he had bathed Zeke in, trips to the car for  
supplies, and rare, brief, catnaps.  
  
Placing the lid on the pot, Casey grabbed the new container of Vicks  
Vapor Rub. It smelled horrible, but Zeke seemed to breathe easier  
after Casey rubbed it on his chest.  
  
Zeke was getting better. His fever had broken this morning, and he  
had responded to Casey's touch. That was better than good. That was  
great. Still, it most likely meant he'd have to go back to his  
stalker-boy ways.  
  
Shaking his head, Casey started up the stairs. If he was lucky, he'd  
get to see Zeke sleep for a while longer, before he had to leave.  
  
He had pushed open the door and taken several steps in before he  
realized Zeke wasn't in bed anymore. He started to turn around, when  
a voice stopped him.  
  
"Hey, Casey. Thought I told you to stay away."  
  
Finishing his turn, Casey saw Zeke sitting in a chair across the  
room, gun in hand.  
  
"Fuck you, Zeke. See you're feeling better." Not willing to be the  
only one standing, and still tired from his supply run, Casey sat on  
the bed. "Found your gun, I see."  
  
Zeke's eyes narrowed. Shit. Casey sure was acting casual about the  
gun. Did that mean he wasn't afraid of being shot? But he had backed  
away before.  
  
"Why are you here? I told you not to come near me."  
  
Now it was Casey's turn to narrow his eyes. "Excuse me. Next time  
almost everyone I know is killed, and the last one left besides me  
takes off, I won't follow. And if I do find him, I'll let him die in  
his smashed up car."  
  
This Casey had bite. Defiantly an alien. Or.... Wait.  
  
Zeke took a closer look. Casey was shaking, and there were dark  
circles under his eyes. He looked like someone who had taken too  
much scat, and was finally coming down.  
  
"You look like shit."  
  
That earned Zeke a frown. "You try taking care of someone for a  
week. It's hard work." Seeing the look of confusion on Zeke's face,   
Casey tried to explain.  
  
"Yes, I was following you. It only took a day to catch up. You were  
sick. I think you caught the alien virus." Casey shrugged. "So I  
brought you here. It was the closest shelter. That's it."  
  
Zeke wanted to trust him. He wanted to trust him so bad he could  
taste it. He had just one more question.  
  
"What do you look like? Really look like."  
  
Casey spread his arms. "Basic package, right here."  
  
That was greeted with a growl. "Yah, well Marybeth's basic package  
had a few add ons. Does yours?"  
  
The smile on Casey's face could only be called beautiful. No matter  
how shitty he looked otherwise, that smile made him look angelic.  
Zeke wished he had seen it before the alien invasion.  
  
"One add on."  
  
"Let's see it."  
  
Casey pulled off his shirt. "I don't want to tear it," he said to  
Zeke's unspoken question. Silently he pushed out; doing what his  
real father had taught him long ago.  
  
Zeke made a noise that sounded like 'gurk', and Casey laughed.

TBC…


	2. Daydreams of Hope

Disclaimer and A/N in part one.  
  
When Casey had removed his shirt, Zeke had wondered why. The  
statement from Casey hadn't explained anything. Then Casey had sat  
there, and smiled.  
  
He had almost expected music to play in the background, then  
something happened. With a whispery sound, like old papers rubbing  
together, white spread out from behind the pale boy.  
  
At first, Zeke didn't comprehend what he saw. Then Casey flexed his  
shoulders, and the giant fans of white spread out.  
  
Wings.  
  
Fucking giant wings. Once they were unfurled, they had to be about  
twenty feet across. Two huge streaks of white, arching up from  
Casey's thin shoulders.  
  
There was a clatter as the gun fell. Casey winced; half-afraid it  
would go off. Most of his attention was focused on Zeke. It was  
interesting to see that stunned look on someone else. He stood, wings  
pulling close, and moved towards Zeke, who was far paler than Casey  
liked.  
  
"Zeke?"  
  
Brown eyes, larger than Casey had ever seen them, shifted from the  
wings to his face. "H.... How?"  
  
"My dad."  
  
Zeke frowned. "That's not an answer," he said. His hands twitched,   
and Casey smiled. This part was familiar as well.  
  
Turning slightly, he stretched out one wing. "Would you like to touch  
it?"  
  
Zeke, of course, wouldn't be Zeke if he didn't make some kind of  
smart ass comment. "Last time you said that, you weren't talking  
about a wing."  
  
With his wings out, Casey felt a lot more confident. "If I remember  
right, Zeke, I'm not the one who said that."  
  
"Jackass."  
  
Ignoring the name, Casey watched Zeke. The look on the other man's  
face made Casey smile, and the fingers running through his feathers  
made him shiver. Not wanting to scare the other man by pouncing him,   
Casey concentrated on Zeke's face.  
  
A week ago, Casey would have never guessed that Zeke could make such  
a childlike expression. The sheer delight was adorable. Once again,   
not something Casey would have associated with Zeke.  
  
"Case?" Zeke brushed his cheek against the feathers.  
  
"Yah?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
It was partially instinct, partial protective. Casey turned to face  
Zeke, his wings curling around the older boy. "It's okay, Zeke. I  
knew what might happen, but I had to tell you. This was something too  
big to hide."  
  
Zeke nuzzled the feathers again, loving the way they felt against his  
skin. Then he leaned forward, resting his head on Casey's bared  
chest. "Still sorry. I'll try to listen next time."  
  
This was a day of the unexpected. Casey tried to remember if he had  
ever heard Zeke apologize to anyone and actually mean it. Unable to  
come up with any, he just leaned down and pressed a kiss against  
Zeke's shoulder.  
  
"Come on," he said, pulling Zeke up. "Let's get you fed." Turning, he  
reached for his shirt. "Give me a sec."  
  
"How are you going to wear it? Your wings...?"  
  
"They go away."  
  
"But...." Zeke felt stupid. He was nineteen, and had helped kill an  
alien queen. He should not fell so sad that Casey was going to put  
his wings away.  
  
Something about that thought was vaguely perverted, and Zeke found  
himself pondering it. So deeply that it took Casey shaking his  
shoulders to snap him out of it.  
  
Concerned eyes looked at Zeke. "Maybe you should lie down for a  
while, before we eat."  
  
"Can you sleep with these out?" Zeke's hand caressed the arch of  
Casey's wing, and Casey shivered. That felt really, really good.  
  
"It takes a bit of adjusting, but, yah, I can."  
  
"Lay down with me?"  
  
"Sure. I could use a nap. Remember, I look like shit."  
  
"Never look like shit," Zeke said, convincingly forgetting he had told  
Casey he did earlier. Instead, he nuzzled the dark hair on Casey's  
head.  
  
"Sle.... Sleep, Zeke." Casey gasped as the warm lips moved to his  
neck. "Either you need to sleep. Or food."  
  
Zeke's wicked grin made Casey's knees go weak. "I need protein," he  
purred, pushing Casey towards the bed. "Lots of protein."  
  
"Oooh," was Casey's only reply.  
  
***  
  
Moonlight painted the room when Zeke woke up. For one, heart-stopping  
instant, Zeke thought he had dreamed Casey. That the younger man  
really had been killed by Marybeth.  
  
The heavy, warm weight that draped over him rustled, and white  
reflected silver. It was one of Casey's wings.  
  
These were why he had abandoned Casey.  
  
A sad smile crossed his face, and Zeke ran his fingers through he  
soft feathers. He felt like a complete asshole.  
  
Casey had lost everyone he had ever known, except Zeke. And Zeke had  
bolted.  
  
Because of these beautiful feathers.  
  
That made Zeke feel like shit. With all the crap Casey had put up  
with, he didn't need what Zeke had dumped. Hell, if Zeke had been in  
Casey's place, he would have flown away.  
  
His breath caught in his throat.  
  
Could Casey fly?  
  
There were definitely strange muscles in Casey's back, Zeke had felt  
them shift. Maybe there were other adaptations he didn't know about.  
  
What was Casey's real father like? Zeke had seen Casey's adoptive  
father once. The man had been yelling about something, and Zeke had  
wondered if every guy in the kid's life was a dickhead. Then two of  
his best clients had shown up, and Zeke had promptly forgotten Casey.  
  
Zeke had never known Casey was adopted, or that his mom had gotten  
pregnant before she had gotten married. Made him wonder what else he  
didn't know. He resolved to find out.  
  
If there was one thing Zeke hated, it was a mystery.  
  
***  
  
He was going to dump the soup over his lover's head. He swore he was.  
  
"Damnit, Zeke, I'm not here, stop that, to be played, I said stop, with  
like a, don't make me dump this on you, new toy." Casey glared at  
Zeke, turning so his body was between Zeke and his wings. If it  
hadn't been for Zeke's pleading, he would have let them vanish  
already, but that soft voice had won him over.  
  
Now Zeke was poking at him, and Casey did not enjoy feeling like a  
science experiment. Still, the look of pure joy on Zeke's face kept  
him from losing it.  
  
Shoving the bowl of soup at Zeke, Casey forced the other boy to take  
it. "Eat. Now."  
  
Zeke looked at the bowl, actually seeing it for the first time.  
Inhaling, his stomach grumbled as drool-worthy smells washed over  
him. Grabbing a spoon, Zeke looked at Casey. "Talk to me, please?"  
  
"About what? What would Zeke the Rebel like to hear?" Casey's sarcasm  
was heavy. Zeke was getting good at ignoring it.  
  
"I don't know. How about your real dad? Ever meet him?"  
  
"Once." Casey's eyes got a far away look, and a small smile ghosted  
over his lips.  
  
"I was six, I think. Dad had yelled at me, again, and I was upstairs.  
Crying. I wasn't upset, I was pissed. Who did this guy think he was?  
My father?  
  
Anyway, I made several wishes on how I wanted to see my real dad. My  
mom never talked about him, just that the guy she married wasn't my  
real dad. Anyone with eyes could see that."  
  
He felt a little guilty. He shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Shaking  
off the feeling, he continued.  
  
"All at once, there was this blinding light, and when I opened my  
eyes, I was in the middle of a forest. That scared me, but this guy  
stepped out of the woods and smiled. I knew who he was. He looked a  
lot like me, only with dark eyes.  
  
He smiled, and he said 'Hello, Casey. You may not know who I am, but  
I'm your father.'"  
  
Casey laughed. "I was a smart ass, even as a little kid. I told  
him 'No, duh. That's why we look alike.'"  
  
An image popped into Zeke's head. Casey, as a little kid, rolling his  
eyes, which were even larger than they were now, at a larger version  
of himself. He kept himself from laughing by sheer will. Still, it  
was close.  
  
Manfully ignoring the stifled sniggers, except for an absent "you're  
suppose to be eating," Casey continued.  
  
"Then he looked serious.'We're in the middle of a great war,' he  
told me.'And I wanted to see you if anything happened.' He knelt in  
front of me. 'Have you ever wanted to fly, Casey?' Not waiting for me  
to answer, he arched back, and these beautiful wings just grew. Right  
there, from his back."  
  
Zeke stopped even pretending to eat, and watched Casey. His face was  
full of wonder, and Zeke had the feeling Casey was seeing the whole  
thing again. If he had been wearing the same expression when he had  
seen Casey's wings, no wonder the kid had laughed.  
  
"Then he picked me up, and laughed, and said 'Let's go flying.' And  
we did.  
  
We flew above the trees, and he pointed out something in the sky that  
let me know I wasn't on Earth anymore."  
  
Wait? Casey had been off Earth? That was news to Zeke.  
  
"The moon was there, only it had a giant eye carved in it. And on the  
other side was this giant blue thing. My father called it the 'Mystic  
Moon.' Said that's where I came from."  
  
Now Casey's eyes were dancing as he looked at Zeke. "Then he showed  
me how to fly. That was the best night of my life." Then the pale boy  
blushed. "Till last night, anyway." That last part was said rather  
quickly.  
  
"I woke up in my room. Dad said it was a dream, Mom didn't say  
anything. When I was ten, she gave me a book. A journal my real dad  
had left."  
  
With a shrug, Casey leaned over and pushed the bowl closer to  
Zeke. "Eat. Journal's in the car. I always carried it with me. A  
reminder that worse came to worse, I can always fly away."  
  
Pushing himself to his feet, Casey grinned. "Eat. There's more on the  
stove. I'll be back in a few."  
  
Slurping down some really mushy noodles, Zeke looked at Casey,   
eyebrows lifted in question.  
  
"If these," Casey twitched his wings. "Are going to stay out, I need  
to change some shirts so I can wear them."  
  
"What," smirked Zeke? "Not going bare-chested and feathered?"  
  
He ducked the towel that flew at his head, and laughed.  
  
Life was good.  
  
***  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Not looking up, Zeke continued to fiddle with the box. "It's a short  
wave radio. Found it in the other room." He twisted two wires  
together, and there was a spark and a loud 'pop.'  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Zeke grunted and sucked on his fingers. The other hand was still  
working at the radio's innards, and Casey leaned against the door  
frame to watch.  
  
As Zeke absorbed himself into the project, Casey discovered that it  
was interesting to watch Zeke when he was totally focused on  
something. He had seen it twice before, but since he was the focus of  
Zeke's attention; he didn't get the joy of watching.  
  
Was this what he looked like when he made his scat? That look of  
intense concentration, especially with the tip of his tongue sticking  
out the corner of his mouth, made Zeke look adorable. Again. That  
little wrinkle, just between his eyes, helped.  
  
The loud crackle of static startled Casey from his observation.  
  
"Got it," crowed Zeke. "Whoever messed with this last fucked it up  
good. Now," he started twisting the various dials. "Let's see if  
anyone is out there. We should be able to hear them. Don't have the  
mike working yet."  
  
As he neared the end of the frequency range, Zeke froze. His head  
cocked to the side, hands flying over the knobs. From the crackling  
came a faint voice.  
  
"apolis. crackle survivors groupinsnap, pop Indianapolis. Make  
your hiss"  
  
The voice faded, and Zeke growled and he leaned back. "Just on the  
edge of the range. Damn."  
  
Gentle hands came to rest on his shoulders, and began to massage. "At  
least we know there are others out there. We're not the last."  
  
"Which is good, because I'm not ruining my girlish figure having  
kids." Zeke tipped his head back and grinned. Casey laughed.  
  
"I may be the odd one, but I'm still not set up for that. Thought," now  
Casey's grin was wicked. "I do like the practice at making kids." He  
dropped a kiss on Zeke's forehead.  
  
"We have survivors, and we have a direction. Indianapolis. Are they  
heading there or running?  
  
"Sounded like they were heading there," said Casey. "I caught the  
word 'grouping.' Question is: do we try to join them?"  
  
"I have an idea," Zeke said, before plucking a loose feather,   
ignoring Casey's yelp. "Whatever direction the pinion points, we go."  
  
"That's like yanking out hair," Casey growled, scratching the spot  
Zeke had plucked him. "Sounds fine, but we're not using this method  
again." He cuffed the back of Zeke's head.  
  
Chuckling, Zeke held the feather, by the pinion, at eye level. Then  
he let go.  
  
The white feather floated down, lightly, drifting. Both boys watched.  
  
"Well," said Casey. "Looks like we're heading towards Indiana."  
  
Zeke looked at the feather, which pointed their way west. "Yep. We're  
gonna find the others."  
  
The End  
  
A/N: Yep, more of them. For those of you who watch Escaflowne, you  
don't need these. Those of you who haven't, these are the quick and  
dirty notes for you. Actually, those of you who do watch Escaflowne,  
might want to read these.  
  
Escaflowne is an anime that takes place on Gaia, a mystical planet  
this is invisible to us, but is on the other side of the moon. In  
its sky is the moon, which has a giant eye that looks over Gaia, and  
the Mystic Moon, known to us as Earth.  
  
There are many races on Gaia, one of which is a group of winged  
people known as (and I'm not sure if I'm spelling this right)   
Draconians.  
  
Draconians may have children with normal humans, and those children  
also have the gift of wings, which can appear and disappear with a  
thought. In the series, and movie, once a Draconian is unconscious,   
the wings vanished, so I played with that. I also made a few other  
changes, which will appear later.  
  
People have been known to teleport from Gaia to Earth, and Earth to  
Gaia. It's got something to do with magic, and the Gaian people have  
a big thing for wishes, which actually do come true on a semi-regular  
basis.  
  
If you guys have any other questions, just ask. I'm happy to share my  
demented world with others.  
  
GW Katrina


End file.
